Page 8 of His By Contract
Georgia squeezed her mother’s cold hand. “The hospital needs payment by morning.”
“I’ll have it taken care of. The full amount, plus the next round of treatment.”
“Twenty minutes,” she repeated, her voice hollow.
The line went dead. Georgia leaned over and pressed her lips to her mother’s forehead, just as Evelyn had done countless times when Georgia was sick or scared. The familiar scent of her mother’s skin lingered beneath the antiseptic.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “But I can’t lose you.”
The monitors beeped steadily, her mother’s face peaceful in unconsciousness. She’d never know the price Georgia paid to save her. Never understand why her daughter had broken their cardinal rule: never depend on a man for anything. Some secrets were better kept unspoken.
Georgia gathered her coat and purse, each movement feeling like moving through water. The weight of her decision pressed against her chest, making it hard to breathe. One year. She could survive one year of anything. Couldn’t she?
Georgia stepped out of the hospital into the night air. The city lights blurred through her tears, but she brushed them away. Crying wouldn’t save her mother. Crying wouldn’t pay the bills. Tears were a luxury she couldn’t afford right now.
A sleek black car idled at the curb. The driver opened the door, and she slid into the leather interior without hesitation. The rich smell of leather and cologne enveloped her. A world away from hospital disinfectant.
The streets passed in silence as they drove toward Adrian’s office. Each mile carried her further from the life she’d built, the independence she’d guarded so fiercely. But independence was a luxury she could no longer afford. Not when her mother’s life hung in the balance.
The car stopped outside a towering glass building. Georgia’s reflection stared back at her from the window, a ghost of herself, hollow-eyed and desperate. She didn’t recognize the woman who climbed those steps, who rode the elevator to the top floor, who walked toward Adrian’s office. Had she already started to disappear?
This wasn’t surrender. This was survival.
Adrian stood at his floor-to-ceiling windows, the city spread before him like a kingdom. He turned as she entered, his eyes assessing her with cool calculation. He looked exactly as he had in her apartment: immaculate, untouchable, powerful.
“You understand the terms?” His voice carried no emotion.
“One year.” Georgia’s voice didn’t shake. “You pay my mother’s medical bills. All of them. And I become your wife.”
He moved with deliberate grace to his mahogany desk. Georgia watched as his long fingers extracted a thick contract from a leather portfolio, the paper whispering against the polished surface as he laid it down. His expression remained impassive, but there was a glimmer of satisfaction in those ice-blue eyes as he indicated the signature line with one elegant gesture. “Sign here.”
Georgia took the pen. The weight of it felt like chains in her hand. But she thought of her mother lying in that hospital bed,of machines keeping her alive, of time running out. This wasn’t a choice. It never had been.
Her signature flowed across the paper in black ink. A contract. A cage. A sacrifice.
Adrian’s fingers brushed hers as he took the pen. “The money will be transferred to the hospital within the hour.”
Georgia nodded once, unable to speak, the reality of what she’d just agreed to settling like lead in her stomach. She’d done it. Traded her freedom, her future, everything she was, to save her mother. The enormity of the choice pressed against her chest, both crushing and oddly liberating. At least now there was hope, even if the price was herself.
Pride no longer mattered. Only survival.
CHAPTER 3
Adrian’s pen moved across the paper with practiced grace, his signature flowing above hers like dark water. The scratch of metal nib against paper echoed through the silent office, each stroke marking another piece of Georgia’s freedom slipping away. She watched his hand move with a strange detachment, as though witnessing someone else’s life being altered forever.
He lifted his phone, spoke a few clipped words. Numbers. Account details. Her mother’s name. The conversation lasted less than a minute, but it erased months of sleepless nights and desperate prayers. Georgia felt a surreal disconnect. How could something that had consumed her entire existence be resolved with such cold efficiency?
“It’s done.” Adrian set the phone down. “The hospital has received payment in full.”
Georgia’s hands curled into fists at her sides, her nails biting into her palms. The relief she’d expected didn’t come. Instead, ice spread through her veins as Adrian’s gaze swept over her, calculating, possessive. She recognized that look, the satisfiedassessment of a man who’d just acquired something valuable. Something that now belonged to him.
“You should rest.” He gathered the contract, tucking it into a leather folder. “The car will take you home. Pack what you need. You’ll move into my penthouse tomorrow.”
The words hit her like physical blows. Home. Pack. Move. Each one another link in the chain she’d willingly wrapped around herself. She’d imagined this moment differently, perhaps with dignity, or at least resignation. Not this hollow emptiness that threatened to swallow her whole.
“I need to check on my mother first.”
“Of course.” His lips curved, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ll find everything’s been arranged. Private room, best care available.”
